many ways
by suninmypocket
Summary: the many ways in which stiles and jackson could have got together. stiles/jackson. songfics. there are going to be many of them, hence the title. could be slow updating though.
1. party poison

**So, because there is nowhere near enough Stiles/Jackson out there, I am going to contribute. This one is set after 2x09. It is very loosely based on the song Party Poison by My Chemical Romance (in title only). Basically because the leaves put in the drink at the party were kinda like poison... and the hallucinations were poisonous... I said it was a very loose connection. Anyway, enjoy!**

Stiles couldn't sleep. He could hear his dad moving about downstairs, trying to find odd jobs about the house with which he could occupy himself. Eventually, Stiles heard his dad come upstairs. He heard him stop, briefly, outside Stiles' room. Stiles stayed quiet. He heard his dad walk past the door and go into his room, closing the door behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to get to sleep.

He couldn't. Thoughts spun around his head. One thought kept popping up, over and over again. _How am I supposed to raise this stupid kid on my own? _He felt his throat clench up. It couldn't be true. It wasn't true. He tried to convince himself. His dad didn't think that. It was because of that hallucinatory drug. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, attempting to keep the tears from spilling out as threatened. Closing his eyes merely meant that the scene from earlier repeated in his head, a film put on loop. Stiles opened his eyes. A few tears dribbled out and suddenly his vision was blurred and the tears wouldn't stop coming. His body was wracked with a sob and he buried his head in his pillow so that his dad wouldn't hear. Not that he would. His dad would sleep through anything. And maybe Stiles was lucky. But now, he didn't want to be lucky. He wanted his dad to come and say that, no, the hallucination, _if that is what is was _a part of Stiles' brain pointed out, was wrong and that he didn't think that, he would never think that. But he didn't come, and Stiles was left sobbing into his pillow.

There was a knock at his window. Stiles had stopped crying. His eyes were rimmed with sore, red skin. He got up. Outside his window was Jackson. Stiles was almost so surprised that he forgot to open the window. Jackson knocked again and Stiles opened the window. Jackson climbed in. "Are you okay?" he asked, immediately, in a very rare show of concern for Stiles' wellbeing. Stiles shook his head. He didn't trust himself to speak. "Is it about the hallucinations?" He had forgotten that everyone had experienced the hallucinations. Jackson stepped further into Stiles' room. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Yes." Stiles whispered, hoarsely, throat sore from sobbing. "Please."

"Okay," Jackson said. "We can talk."

Stiles had never felt so glad to talk to Jackson. It turned out that Jackson came over to do just that. Talk. Because he was scared and upset, too. And Stiles understood that and he wanted to help him. He understood that Jackson was scared that he was being controlled. Scared that they couldn't help him. Jackson looked at him. "You okay now?" Stiles nodded. Jackson got up. "I should go now." Stiles reached out and grabbed his wrist.

"No. Stay."

"But what if..." The unspoken question hung in the air. Stiles shrugged.

"I'll take that chance." Jackson looked at Stiles, surprised. Stiles pulled on his wrist. "C'mon. Lie down." Jackson did as Stiles said, lying down next to Stiles. "Hey," Stiles said, smiling. "Maybe I could control you."

"I'd prefer it to having Matt control me." Jackson confessed. Stiles rolled onto his side, so he was looking at Jackson rather than the ceiling.

"We'll sort it out. I promise," he said. Jackson looked at him, childishly hopeful.

"Thank you," he breathed out. Stiles felt his breath tickle over his face. Jackson's eyes locked onto Stiles'. "Why are you doing this? Truthfully." Stiles hesitated.

"I want to help you."

"But why?"

"Because I think there's more to you than being an asshole jock." Jackson smiled and Stiles' breath hitched slightly. Jackson heard it.

"There's more, isn't there?" he said, moving closer to Stiles. "It's more than just that, isn't it?" Stiles nodded, ashamed.

"I like you. As in _like _like you." He looked down, unable to meet Jackson's eyes.

"Good," Jackson said. "Because I wouldn't want to be the only one of us feeling like this." Stiles looked up quickly. Jackson smiled and leaned in. He kissed him gently on the lips, then pulled away. Stiles felt a smile spread across his face. He moved closer to Jackson, so they were pressed together. He kissed Jackson on the lips and Jackson kissed back. It was slow and languid and beautiful. He pulled back and smiled. Then, yawned. Jackson chuckled. "Sleep," he said. "I'll still be here in the morning." Stiles nodded and closed his eyes. Jackson rolled onto his back and Stiles rested his head on Jackson's chest. "G'night," he said, sleepily. Jackson kissed the top of his head.

"Goodnight."


	2. guilty

**Based on the song Guilty by Blue.**

Jackson doesn't always see the reaction that his snide remarks cause. He doesn't want to, because, in his head, it's just another reminder of how insignificant, how useless, he is. But he sees Stiles' reaction. He sees it and he hates himself for it. Stiles wasn't even meant to overhear it. He thought he was elsewhere. But he's heard and now Jackson has to fix things. He has to go after Stiles because his stomach is churning and roiling with guilt and he can't not say sorry for this. He can't forgive himself for hurting Stiles, but he needs to make sure that Stiles understands that he is sorry. So, he goes after Stiles, completely against the orders of Derek, but he doesn't care.

He follows Stiles into the forest. He can smell his scent, it gives him an advantage over Stiles. But still, Stiles isn't in sight, and he can't hear him. Jackson's starting to get worried. Stiles is never this silent.

He finds him at last in a clearing in the middle of the forest. "Go away, Jackson." Stiles says.

"No," Jackson refuses to go. He came here to apologise and he is going to apologise whether Stiles likes it or not. "Look, Stilinski... I'm sorry. About earlier." Stiles laughs, harshly, hoarsely.

"No, you're not," he says. "The number of times I've heard you say something bad about me. You never apologised for any of them. What makes this time any different? Maybe the fact that you know I heard?"

"Stiles... Please, believe me. I'm sorry!" Jackson is pleading. He knows it, he can hear it in his own voice. "I didn't mean it."

"Then why did you say it? Why did you fucking say it?" Stiles is shouting now. "If you really didn't fucking well mean it, why say it? Just another opportunity to put the idiot human down, was it?" Jackson shakes his head, wanting to deny it, but he doesn't know why he said it. He doesn't know why and he wants Stiles to understand that. But Stiles is shouting and sobbing now. So, Jackson does the first thing that makes sense to him. He kisses Stiles, to shut him up. Stiles shuts up. "I don't know," Jackson says. "I don't know why I said it when it wasn't true. And you're not an idiot human. You're probably the most useful pack member. And you're not even a wolf!" This makes Stiles smile slightly, but there are still tears running down his cheeks. Jackson wipes them away with his thumb. He kisses Stiles again. Stiles kisses him back. "Do you hate me?" Jackson asks in a small voice, "For saying those things." Stiles frowns.

"I don't think I could ever hate you, Jacks." The nickname makes Jackson look at him. Stiles smiles, practically reading Jackson's mind as he asks, "Like the nickname, Jacks?" Jackson smirks, now back to his normal cocky self.

"I dunno. Maybe you could, y'know, get me used to it."

"Course," Stiles says. "You free tonight?"


	3. undercover lover

**undercover lover or how stiles went from being jackson's completely secret boyfriend to being his completely not-secret boyfriend. song by kids in glass houses.**

To say that Scott was shocked when Stiles woke up would be a contender for understatement of the year. Stiles groaned and poked Jackson in the ribs. Jackson opened one eye, saw Scott and closed his eye again. Stiles let out an exasperated breath. Scott still hadn't moved. 'That's what you get for coming into my room without warning,' Stiles thought. Since Scott didn't seem to be about to speak or move, Stiles decided to go back to sleep.

When he woke again, a few hours later, Scott was gone. Jackson was awake and running his fingers through Stiles' hair, which Stiles had been growing out at Jackson's request. He hmm-ed contentedly. Jackson chuckled. "What did McCall want?" he asked.

"I dunno," Stiles replied. "He just stood there and didn't say anything, so I went back to sleep." Jackson laughed again. There was a knock on Stiles' door and, before he could say otherwise, his dad opened it. The look on his dad's face was almost comical and, if he were in any other position, Stiles would have laughed. Sheriff Stilinski's face went bright red and he backed out of the doorway, closing the door behind him. "Fuck," Stiles swore. But he didn't move from Jackson's side.

They lay in bed for a bit longer. Jackson poked Stiles' side. "C'mon," he said. "We've got a pack meeting to get to."

"Since when were you so fussed about pack meetings?" Stiles asked.

"Since now." Jackson rolled out of bed. Stiles reluctantly got up, too. They showered together, then got dressed. They walked back into Stiles' room, after eating breakfast and cleaning their teeth. Jackson backed Stiles up against the wall and leaned in close. "Hey, beautiful," he said. Stiles blushed and looked down. Jackson tilted his head up and kissed him. Stiles moaned into his mouth. The kiss became more heated. Someone cleared their throat behind them. Jackson pulled away and Stiles saw Isaac looking embarrassedly at them. "Derek told me to get Stiles for the pack meeting," he explained. "Erica went to get Jackson, but clearly she... er... won't find him at home."

"Let's just go," Stiles said, rolling his eyes. Isaac looked like he thought no one could have come up with a better plan.

They drove in Jackson's Porsche to Derek's house. Isaac went on ahead. There was no one outside when they got there, so Jackson took the opportunity to press a kiss to Stiles' mouth. "If you carry on doing that, I'm liable to want to jump you," Stiles told him.

"That's fine by me," Jackson replied, pressing another kiss to Stiles' mouth. When they broke apart, Stiles saw Erica, having just got out of her car, looking at them in shock. "We're not doing too well today, are we?" he said, gesturing towards her with a nod of his head.

Derek glared at them when they came into the room. Jackson just shrugged. He and Stiles sat down. The meeting started. Stiles tuned out for most of it. He was preoccupied by avoiding Scott's accusing gaze. How could you not tell me? it said. "You can all go," Derek said, eventually. "Except Stiles and Jackson." Jackson rolled his eyes.

"I feel like I'm about to get detention," Stiles said.

"Just stay," Derek ordered. "And you, Boyd." Everyone else left. Derek stared at Stiles, but Stiles just shrugged and grinned. "You smell of each other," Derek stated at last, sounding slightly accusatory. Jackson and Stiles looked at him.

"Five," Stiles said, eventually.

"Six," Jackson corrected him. "Boyd's here." Stiles rolled his eyes. Derek looked nonplussed. He looked between them, but neither gave anything away. "Just go," he said. They did.

They went to Jackson's house this time, given that he was less likely to get impromptu visits from friends or werewolves. Jackson's mum was home, but she was in her study. Jackson called out hello, while gesturing for Stiles to be quiet. She called back to say that she didn't went to be disturbed. Stiles could see that Jackson smarted slightly at that comment. He took Jackson's hand. Jackson led him upstairs into his bedroom. They didn't bother to close the door. Jackson pulled Stiles to him and kissed him. Stiles reciprocated the kiss, eagerly. Jackson ran a hand underneath Stiles' shirt and Stiles groaned into the kiss. They broke apart, briefly, to remove their shirts. They didn't hear the doorbell ring. They didn't hear Jackson's mum answer the door to Danny. Neither did they hear Danny come up the stairs. In fact, they had no idea that he was in the house until they heard a slightly strangled sounding noise from the doorway. "Fuck," Jackson said. "Fuck. Danny, I'm sorry..."

"Y'know, I think I'll leave you to do whatever you were doing before." He backed out of the doorway and went downstairs. Stiles and Jackson just looked at each other. "Maybe we should just rent a hotel room or something," Stiles said. "There would be less of a chance of being walked in on."

They decided to go for a walk in the forest, to get away from everyone. They drove to the edge of the forest in Stiles' Jeep. They wandered through the trees, holding hands. Every now and then, Stiles would turn and kiss Jackson. They soon reached the road. Stiles kissed Jackson and Jackson pulled him closer. A car drove past. Then braked suddenly. Stiles pulled away and looked at the car. "Oh, fuck," he said.

"What?" Jackson asked.

"That's Lydia's car," Stiles responded. "Which means eight."

"It's not our day, is it?" Jackson said, sighing. "Well, we may as well go face her now. Sooner rather than later." Stiles agreed and they walked towards the car. They found, to their growing horror, that it wasn't just Lydia in the car, but also Allison. "Nine," Stiles said, morosely. "Y'know, before today, we were keeping it a secret just fine." Jackson nodded.

"I told her it was you," Allison said, through the open window. "She didn't believe me, though, so we had to stop." Lydia looked at them.

"You know, I never would have expected it," she said. "Anyway, we'd best get going." With that, she sped off.

"Well," Jackson said. "At least that's the most positive reaction we've had." Stiles laughed.

Stiles dropped Jackson off at his house, later that afternoon. He got out of the Jeep too. Jackson pressed him up against the side of the car and kissed him. "We'll get caught again," Stiles said, breathlessly, between kisses. Jackson ignored him in favour of continuing to kiss him. He pulled away at last. "Your parents are standing in the doorway," Stiles said. Jackson turned to see that he was right. He shrugged. "I kinda want to quit with all the secretiveness and just be, y' know, boyfriends." He looked down, embarrassed.

"That sounds perfect," Stiles replied. Jackson smiled and kissed him one last time before pulling away. "Well, I'd better go and face them," he said. Stiles smiled.

"And I'd best go and face my dad. See you tomorrow?"

"Of course." Jackson smiled and turned to face his parents. Stiles got in his car and started the engine. He pulled away from the curb and drove off. Jackson walked up the path to his house to face his parents.


	4. the only hope for me is you

**the only hope for me is you - my chemical romance**

The only thing that keeps Jackson going while he is the kanima is thinking about Stiles. Contrary to what everyone thinks, Jackson as the kanima does retain some control over his mind. Not enough to stop himself, though. It's like some great cosmic joke. Let's make him able to watch himself kill these innocent people, but unable to do anything to stop himself. Real funny. Jackson makes an unconscious decision to switch off at these moments and think of something else. That something else tends to be Stiles**.**

Jackson can't begin to describe Stiles. He's genuinely witty. Jackson sometimes finds himself smirking after Stiles has unleashed his wit. Jackson used to be on the end of it a lot of the time, but not so much anymore.

He's forgiving. After every time the kanima takes over, Jackson finds his way to Stiles' house and climbs in through the window. Stiles immediately knows what has happened. He forgives Jackson, even when Jackson can't forgive himself. 'It's not your fault,' he says. Jackson shakes his head at this, every time. And every time, he replies, 'If I hadn't...' Stiles never lets him finish the sentence. This normally involves kissing him to shut him up. Jackson is thankful that Stiles can forgive him, even though no one else seems able to.

He is beautiful. Stiles would kill Jackson if he knew that Jackson described him like this, but it's true. Stiles can't see it: who can blame him, surrounded by the male company he keeps, the only human. But Jackson is working on it. He's working on convincing Stiles that he is beautiful. Jackson always looks at him in awe. How is it that he'd never been kissed before Jackson? How is it that no one would go out with him? How is it that no one asked him to go out with them?

He puts up with Jackson. In Jackson's eyes, only someone with the patience of a saint could do that. He's moody, broody and usually capricious. Yet Stiles is still with him. He still comforts Jackson when he's feeling especially down. He still kisses him, even when he's being horrible.

He loves Jackson for who he is. Unlike Lydia, who always said that he had to be in first line, he had to win, because she didn't date losers. Stiles accepts that Jackson is insecure. He accepts that Jackson needs to know that he is wanted. And he shows this to Jackson on a regular basis.

He doesn't pity Jackson. When he found out that Jackson was adopted, he didn't react like everyone else Jackson has told did. He didn't pull an apologetic face. He just shrugged. And Jackson fell in love just a little bit more. Jackson hates the pitying looks he gets from the pack, especially since they know he's the kanima. But he doesn't get them from Stiles, for which he is eternally grateful. He doesn't know if he could stand it.

Jackson has told Stiles about the little piece of humanity which he keeps when he becomes the kanima. He has told Stiles about the people he killed. How he can't get them out of his head. How he closes his eyes and sees them, screaming in terror as the kanima bears down on them. And Stiles does his best to help Jackson forget, even if it doesn't work for long. Jackson knows he's going to have to die to finish off the kanima. But Stiles loves him and that's enough for him.


	5. inconsolable

**inconsolable - backstreet boys**

When this day rolls around every year, Stiles wakes up and he can't breathe. Normally, this day falls in the holidays, just at the beginning. But, this year, the holidays start later. And Stiles has to go to school. He doesn't know how he's going to cope. He thinks, no, he knows, Scott will have forgotten. Since it's always in the holidays, Scott has never had to face Stiles on this day. And anyway, Scott's so infatuated with Allison that Stiles has become a third wheel. His only hope, he decides is to keep himself to himself and try get through the day as quickly as possible.

This plan works for most of the day. If people look at him strangely, it's because he's actually being quiet for once. There is no pity, no sympathy, in those looks.

It's all going well. Until lacrosse training. Stiles is sat on the bench, as usual, when he suddenly, inexplicably, starts having a panic attack. He clenches his fists and closes his eyes in an attempt to ward of the oncoming wave of terror. This can't be happening. Not here, not now. He tries to take shallow breaths, but he can't breathe at all now. He opens his eyes and everything is out of focus and spinning, so he closes them again. He hears his name being called and it sounds like he is underwater; all the sounds are muffled. His name is being repeated. "Can you hear me?" comes through, clear of static. He nods, shakily. He doesn't know who is speaking. He feels someone take him by the arm and lead him away. His eyes are still squeezed tightly shut. He still can't breathe properly.

He's sat down on a bench in what he assumes, from the smell, is the changing rooms. "Focus on my voice," he hears and he tries to nod, but he think it probably just comes out as a feeble wiggle of his head. "Okay, breathe. Just breathe, it's all okay." Stiles tries to follow these instructions. In through the nose, out through the mouth. It's hard. He hears a tap running and then a wet cloth, a cold one, is placed around his neck. Someone crouches in front of him. He's still trying to breathe. "Open your eyes," someone says. He does and he could swear that, though his vision is still fuzzy, it's Jackson in front of him. "Breathe with me," the person says. He breathes in and out steadily and Stiles tries to copy him. He breathes in deeply and out again. "Good," he hears and it sounds less like being underwater and more like normal.

Eventually, he can breathe again and his vision is clear. It is Jackson crouched in front of him. "How do you know how to deal with panic attacks?" he asks.

"First aid course," he gets as an explanation.

"I didn't think that they did that on first aid courses," Stiles says, confused.

"I might have specifically asked them about it," Jackson shrugs, slightly sheepishly. Stiles looks about to ask why. "Yes, it was because of you," Jackson preempts him. "I was 12 and I remember you were always leaving the classroom because of panic attacks, so I made sure that I could deal with them." He says it like it's no big deal, but to Stiles, it is. He's just come around to the fact that he likes Jackson, as in more than a friendly kind of liking. It means something to him, that Jackson made an effort to make sure he could deal with Stiles' panic attacks. "Thanks," he says. "For being able to deal with it. I don't think anyone else could have."

"Not even McCall?" He can hear the unasked question reverberating in Jackson's voice. Has he never told him? Stiles shrugs and smiles, wryly. "Normally, this day always happens in the holidays," he explains. "Scott never has to deal with it."

"What's so special about today?" Jackson asks. He sits on the bench.

"My mum died five years ago today." Stiles explains. "I usually just spend the whole day in bed, but this year, I can't."

"What was she like, your mum?" Jacksons says.

"She was beautiful. I'm not saying that just because she was my mum. She really was beautiful. And funny and kind and just the best mum I could ever have had."

"Like you," Jackson says.

"No, completely not like me." Stiles replies.

"You're funny," Jackson says. "You're kind. I mean, if McCall didn't have you around, as his best mate, he wouldn't be able to function."

"He's got Allison, now," Stiles says, slightly bitterly. "He doesn't need me."

"Well, he's an idiot for not seeing how good a friend you are, then." Jackson says. Stiles laughs a bit at this. "And you're beautiful," Jackson continues. Stiles' heart starts thumping hard in his chest, straining to be free of its moorings. He looks at Jackson and the expression on Jackson's face says he's being completely and utterly sincere about this. Stiles is lost for words. Jackson cups Stiles' face with a hand and Stiles leans into the touch a bit. Jackson leans closer and really Stiles doesn't know why his heart hasn't leapt from his chest yet, it's beating so rapidly. Jackson's lips touch his and Stiles' brain short circuits. He doesn't think, he just acts. He moves his arms to drape over Jackson's shoulders and kisses back.

When the rest of the team comes in, they're changed and sat waiting. People keep checking in on Stiles, asking if he's okay, and really he is. He's never felt better. Scott looks at him oddly, as if he can smell that something has been going on. Stiles just smiles, enigmatically.

As he's driving home, Stiles can't stop smiling. Really, today turned out so much better than expected.


	6. icebox

**icebox - there for tomorrow.**

First of all, it's Lydia. He works as hard as he can to piss her off. She eventually blows up in his face and tells himself just where he can stick his dick.

Next, it's Danny. He's reluctant to do this, but he has to. He makes a few derogatory comments about gays while Danny's around and that's all it takes. Really, he'd have thought it would take more to get Danny off his back. Maybe he should be upset that Danny didn't try to make it work, but he can't bring himself to care.

Allison is the third person. Maybe, he thinks, he can sort out Scott at the same time. He acts like a complete douchebag to Scott, while Allison is around, and openly flirts with her as well. When she tells him to fuck off, he doesn't care.

He doesn't bother trying to alienate Derek. The man hates him anyway. There's no point. And his little puppies don't like him either.

No one on the lacrosse team, other than Danny, ever really liked him, so he doesn't bother with them. They all pretend to like him, pretend that they are friends with him, to get into his pants, so to speak. Not literally, more like piggybacking into the world of the rich.

His parents are never around much. They're always off at some exotic conference or another. They don't have any time for Jackson. Normally, he finds himself getting pissed off at them because of this, but, right now, he's grateful for it.

He finds the gun, filled with bullets, in his father's desk drawer. It's for emergencies only, but he thinks that this must constitute as an emergency. He goes into his room and flicks the safety catch of the gun. He puts it in his mouth, pointed upwards so as to blow out his brains, and fingers the trigger. There is a frantic knocking at the door. He tries to ignore it. The knocking continues, fast and loud. He throws the gun onto his bed and goes downstairs to open the door.

It's Stilinski standing in his doorway. Jackson is surprised, but at the same time, kicking himself for forgetting to alienate him. Of all people, why Stilinski? Why does he have to forget the one person who could piece it all together? "Don't do it," Stilinski says, breathlessly. "Don't, please. I know what you're trying to do. Killing yourself isn't going to solve anything."

"It'll get rid of the kanima," Jackson says.

"But it will also get rid of you," Stiles says, pleading. "Please, don't do this."

"It's not like anyone would care," Jackson says, harshly. More harshly than he needs to and he can see from Stilinski's face that this statement has hurt.

"That's not true," he says, softly. "I care." And this is what makes Jackson break down. Not the pleading, but the simple admission of caring. Stiles says nothing, he just takes Jackson in his arms and holds him. Jackson grasps at the back of Stiles' shirt, bunching the chequered material up in fists, while he sobs onto Stiles' shoulder.

They sit in Jackson's room. Jackson has taken the gun and placed it back in his father's desk. Stiles watched him do so. "So," Stiles says. "Did you just forget about me, or did you purposefully not break it off with me?" How can Jackson tell him that he didn't want to go out on bad terms with Stiles, of all people? How can Jackson explain to Stiles how much he affects him, how fast his heart pumps when he looks at him. Like he is now. "I didn't want to die with you hating me and knowing that I had made you hate me on purpose." Oh, Jackson, he thinks, you've put your foot in it now. Stiles looks at him.

"I don't think I could ever hate you," he says. "Maybe I could be angry at you, I could think you're a total douchebag, but I could never hate you." Jackson almost sobs with relief. It must show on his face. Stiles smiles. He finds Jackson's hand and laces his fingers through Jackson's. A smile cracks across Jackson's face, the first in a long time.

Stiles stays the night. He calls the sheriff and says that a friend needs some moral support. The sheriff doesn't ask. Jackson gets his good night's sleep in a while. He kisses Stiles in the morning. Stiles is pleasantly surprised, and Jackson feels lighter than he has in weeks.


	7. war paint

**war paint - the dangerous summer**

There's a war coming. Stiles can feel it building, roiling in the air like thunderclouds, a gathering storm. He can sense it as he lies in bed at night with Jackson, sticky with sweat and _more_. Jackson sleeps, calmly, curled into Stiles' side. Stiles wishes he could stay like this forever, wishes that the months of peace between the wolves and the hunters _weren't_ about to come to an end. He doesn't know what caused it this time, doesn't want to know. It's probably something else to do with Scott and Allison; it usually is. But, lying here next to Jackson, Stiles can't bring himself to care all that much.

When Jackson wakes up, he will sigh and make his usual excuses and make a hasty exit through Stiles' window. He always does, and Stiles always wishes that he wouldn't. They could be, could have, something more than this, whatever _this_ is.

So when Jackson stirs, when he rolls over and rubs his eyes, Stiles hardens himself to the inevitable cold shoulder. But he is surprised when Jackson smiles up at him and kisses whatever part of Stiles' body is beneath his mouth. He is surprised when Jackson wishes him good morning and laces their fingers together. Stiles allows a smile to spread across his face. "I wanted to make it right, before the war starts," Jackson whispers and his breath flutters, warm and wet, against the skin of Stiles' arm. And when Jackson pulls his face down to kiss him, Stiles is okay with that.


	8. downpour

**downpour - backstreet boys**

It's pouring with rain. His dad is out, doing his job, in this godawful weather. He has three guesses as to where Scott will be and he only needs one. He can hear the rain pitter-patter on his windowsill. Solitary drops of it drip from the gutter and tumble down the pane of glass. He's restless. It's been hot and humid for the past week and it's broken now. He can't sit still, hasn't taken his pills today. He couldn't be bothered. He's not tired. He lies in bed and listens to the raindrops. It's still humid and muggy, so he opens his window.

Now, he can smell the scent of wet grass and wet foliage. The rain continues to fall, heavier and heavier. He gives up trying to sleep and just sits at the window and watches the rain fall. He can't see very far out into the night, it's falling so thickly. He's got homework due in tomorrow, and he can't be bothered to do it.

There's a knock at his front door. He goes down to answer it. Jackson is stood on his porch. "I was trying to sleep," he says.

"Fully dressed?" Jackson raises an eyebrow. He shrugs. He's been known to forget little things like that. Jackson's wet.

"Did you walk here?"

"No," Jackson says, like it should be obvious, but really, it's not. "I drove." The door is still open. He briefly wonders why he hasn't invited Jackson in yet. Jackson is wondering the same thing. "Sorry," he says. "Not quite with it." Jackson smirks, but refrains from making a derogatory comment.

It feels odd, having Jackson in his house. He's been to Jackson's plenty of times. They've done whatever it is they're doing at Jackson's house, and in the locker rooms after practice. Never in his house, though. He's not sure he could face his dad if he caught them doing something. He doesn't think Jackson cares too much. Which might be why he's here now. Or it might not. It's hard to say with Jackson. "Let's go outside," Jackson says. Maybe Jackson's mad, he thinks. It's never been proven or disproven, but right now, it seems likely. "C'mon, let's go outside," Jackson says.

"It's pouring with rain," he hears himself say. Jackson scoffs and grabs his wrist. He lets himself be pulled out into the garden and the sheets of rain. He is soaked almost immediately, but he can't bring himself to care particularly. Maybe it's Jackson's fault. The intoxicating sense of freedom and spontaneity which he feels when Jackson's around. Actually, there's no 'maybe' about it. It is fully and completely and utterly Jackson's fault and he doesn't care.

The rain is freezing cold, but he doesn't care about that either. Jackson's hand is in his own and Jackson grabs his other hand. He turns to face him. Jackson's eyes are oceans and he doesn't even care how clichéd that sounds. He can't stop staring into them. He's lost in them and... Jackson's kissing him in the pouring rain. And it's so _clichéd_ and just a bit romantic that, when Jackson pulls away, he grins widely. "You old softie," he says. "You're just a romantic." He's about to tease Jackson, but he's kissed again. Jackson pulls away and he whines. Jackson chuckles and presses kisses on his lips. "Stiles," he whispers as he does it, and hearing Jackson say his name makes Stiles ridiculously happy. He doesn't even care that he's soaking wet and liable to be ill in the morning. He's just happy to stand in the pouring rain _with Jackson_.


	9. fucking perfect

**fucking perfect - p!nk**

People think they know what Stiles takes all those pills for. They think they're for ADHD and Stiles hasn't told them anything different. He just lets them assume what they like. Maybe he does play it up a bit, acting like he actually does had ADHD, so they don't question their assumptions. He doesn't want them to know what he actually takes them for. Only his dad knows. And that's how it will remain.

The pills keep the monster in check. They mean he can get up in the morning, he can make it through the day. They keep it at bay, under control, though this control is tenuous: sometimes he thinks he's going to fall apart and the pills do little to alleviate that feeling. Once or twice he's tried to overdose on them, it that just makes him feel drowsy and doesn't do much else. He counts himself lucky that these bad days don't seem to happen all that often on a school day. Those days where he's been 'ill' and he's taken a day off school? That's just the monster taking over for a bit. That's when the pills don't work and he can't get up. Those are the days when he hates his existence so unbelievably much that it's almost worth taking a blade to his wrists and making two deep cuts and letting all the blood in his body spill out and drain away. But then he remembers how he's all his dad has left. How if he died, his dad would be distraught. So he lives, for his dad. No one else cares enough to check whether he is physically ill when he says he is. No one. Not even his so-called best friend.

He wakes up one morning, feeling completely fine. He glances at the clock. It's 7:30 and he's going to be late. He rushes showering and eating and getting dressed and he's out the house by 8, but he's still not going to be on time. He drives his Jeep as fast as it will go (which, frankly, is still pretty slow) and is at school by 8:15. It's only then that he realises he's forgotten to take his pills. He swears under his breath, but he can't do anything about it now. He just has to hope that today won't be a bad day. Somehow, though, he doubts that that'll be the case.

He's late for chemistry and Mr Harris is on his back about it immediately. "Late, Mr Stilinski," he says, as Stiles sits down, not in his customary place, but instead next to Jackson, which is just his luck. "One more demonstration of tardiness will result in a detention." Stiles doesn't say anything, for once, which seems to surprise Harris. Heck, it seems to surprise everyone one. "You feeling okay, Stilinski?" Jackson asks. Stiles almost says 'no' because his 'completely fine' is quickly deteriorating. But he just nods tersely. Jackson looks away, and Stiles hopes that he's got him off his back.

By the end of chemistry, Stiles doesn't know how he's going to survive the rest of the day. He feels absolutely fucking awful. And he's sinking lower. And he can't help himself. He wants to die.

Scott catches up with him after he leaves the classroom. "Dude," he says. "Why were you late?" Stiles shrugs. He doesn't feel like talking. "Did you see Allison?" Scott continues, ignoring, or perhaps not noticing, Stiles' silence. "She's wearing that necklace I bought her." Stiles smothers a sudden, inexplicable burst of anger. Scott doesn't notice; even with his werewolf senses he's painfully oblivious. Scott blabbers on, unaware of Stiles' lack of words, where he would normally have a sarcastic comment or witty remark to interject with.

Allison joins them at their lockers. Stiles doesn't think they mean to, he hopes they don't mean to, block him out, but, what with their urge to make out all the time, they tend to ignore him. He's feeling worse and worse. He doesn't know how he's still standing up. It seems to be more by force of will than anything else.

He stumbles to his next class. He ends up sat next to Jackson again, which is just his luck. After five minutes sat down, he can't hear the teacher for the rushing, roaring noise which is pounding through his head. He buries his head in his arms and squeezes his eyes shut. He concentrates on breathing: in, out, in, out. He counts to fifty, under his breath; he recites the alphabet backwards. It doesn't help. He's drowning. There's an enormous weight pressing on him. He can just about hear the teacher saying his name, but he can't respond. He doesn't have the energy. He feels someone lift him up from his chair and take his weight on them. He stumbles as they walk out of the classroom, but the person helping him keeps him upright.

A few minutes later, they're sat at a table in the cafeteria. Stiles at last looks at the face of the person who took him from the classroom. He's surprised to see it's Jackson. The surprise must register on his face because Jackson gives him a wry smile. Stiles' heart - which was previously beating regularly, it might be said - skips a beat. This smile looks ten times nicer, and makes Jackson look ten times friendlier (and hotter), than his customary smirk. The smile slips off Jackson's face. "So, I suppose I have the answer to my question. You're not feeling okay, are you?" Stiles shakes his head because, fuck it, there's no point denying it and he's so fucking tired of claiming he's alright when, goddamnit, he's _not_. "What's wrong?" Jackson asks, softly.

"Everything." Stiles murmurs, unable to do anything but. "I didn't take my pills this morning," he says. "I forgot. I was in a hurry and I completely forgot and now I feel like absolute shit." He chokes back a sob at the end of this speech.

"I take it your pills aren't Adderall, then," Jackson says.

"They're for depression," Stiles replies. Jackson nods, like it explains a lot, and maybe it does. He reaches a hand out and cups Stiles' face. Stiles sighs involuntarily and relaxes into Jackson's touch. "I just want to die," he admits, quietly, to Jackson.

"I don't want you to die," Jackson admits, just as quietly, back.

"Why not? I thought you hate me." Stiles says, confused.

"I don't hate you. I could never hate you," Jackson says. "You mean too much to me. I know I'm a complete douche around you, but please believe me. I like you. A lot. I think you're perfect."

"Me? Perfect?" Stiles laughs, sourly. "I'm depressed and I pop pills to keep myself sane. I'm nowhere near perfect."

"You're perfect to me." Jackson admits. Stiles raises his head from where he had been staring. He looks at Jackson. Jackson's hand is still cupping his chin. He rubs his thumb over Stiles' cheek and leans forward. He allows their lips to brush, then pulls back to gauge Stiles's reaction. There's a small smile pulling at Stiles' lips. His eyes are closed and, slowly, he opens them. "If you're going to kiss me, you might as well do it properly," he says. Jackson smiles back at him, genuinely, and kisses him again. When he pulls back, Stiles is smiling. "Thank you," he says.

"For what?" Jackson asks, brow furrowing in confusion. Stiles lifts a hand and smoothes out the crease.

"For making me feel better," he explains. Jackson kisses him, lightly, on the lips.

"Anytime."


	10. left outside alone

**left outside alone - anastacia**

It was a cold night, as was to be expected nearing Christmas. They had been out, into the town, for a party. None of them really knew what they were celebrating; perhaps the miracle of _still being alive_against all odds. All Stiles knew was that he had been comprehensively ditched. Allison and Scott had gone off, having reconciled themselves to the fact that they couldn't live without each other. Boyd had wandered off with Erica. Lydia had gone with Isaac (which had surprised everybody. 'But hey,' thought Stiles, 'that's life.'). And so Stiles was left on his own.

Well, that wasn't strictly true. He wasn't alone. He had Jackson (the jackass jock, as Stiles called him in his head) with him. It was an awkward situation to say the least. Especially since Stiles had started noticing (that is to say, his dick had started noticing) just how freaking hot Jackson was. And now Jackson was a werewolf, he could probably smell that Stiles was just slightly aroused by the situation. Which made Stiles' life just peachy, _thank you very much_.

And when Jackson looked at him, he knew that he knew, and, fuck, this was bad. This was seriously bad. Stiles idly wondered, in the little corner of his brain that wasn't currently telling him to run and (oh fuck, oh fuck, this is bad) bury himself under a rock for the conceivable future, whether the others had done this, left them alone together, on purpose.

And when Jackson kissed him, his brain short circuited and he didn't care.


	11. something good can work

**something good can work - two door cinema club**

It feels too good. That is the first thing Stiles thinks every morning when he wakes up. It feels too fucking good to be true. It will all turn out to be a dream. Or a prank, a cruel prank, from the lacrosse team. He wishes it would last forever.

Waking up in the morning to Jackson is the best thing he has ever experienced in his life. Albeit he hasn't many (any) other experiences from which to draw comparisons. He didn't ever think that Jackson would be so gentle, treating him like something precious, or so considerate. He wakes Stiles up by kissing gently down the curve of his neck, nuzzling slightly when it suits him. He kisses under Stiles' chin when he rolls over, seeking warmth. He even licks the shell of Stiles' ear. Then, once Stiles is aware of what is going on, he kisses each eyelid and then his mouth. They wake up lazily together, even on school days when they probably can't afford to be so relaxed. Jackson will lace their fingers together and carefully kiss the tip of each one.

At school, Lydia is always glued to Jackson's side. She can tell that he has someone else ("call it women's intuition") and she hasn't stopped bothering him about who it is. He won't tell her. And this, Stiles thinks, is the first sign that it really is too good to be true.

The second sign is how Jackson can't look him in the eye at school. He goes out of his way to avoid Stiles and Stiles can't pretend it doesn't hurt, because fuck it does, it hurts like a bitch. But Stiles is used to losing the good things, and he's good at ignoring the pain.

But that doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt. Especially when Stiles sees Jackson talking to Danny about something. He sees Jackson look over at him, then look away quickly.

That night, Stiles decides that, yes, it was too good to be true. Jackson hasn't turned up through his window yet, like he usually does. He didn't think it would hurt this fucking much, though. It's the slow burn of a fuse culminating in a chest-achingly familiar pain, which he recognises from after his mum's death. Oh, he would give anything, _anything_, never to feel this way again.

He's given up and gone to bed, when there's a knock on the window. Jackson creeps in. He looks worried about something. He takes Stiles into his arms (and Stiles isn't going to protest about this). Stiles sighs deeply, sadly, and allows himself to relax. "Stiles, baby," Jackson says, and his breath tickles Stiles' ear. "What's wrong?"  
"It feels too good to be true," he confesses. "I feel like you're going to up and leave at any moment."  
"I wouldn't," Jackson says. "I promise you, I wouldn't ever do that." Stiles shrugs. "Why would you think that?" Jackson asks.  
"I guess it's because everything good in my life has been taken away from me at some point." Stiles says, truthfully. He's half expecting Jackson to leave him now. Jackson pulls back and looks closely at Stiles. "I promise that I will never leave you," he says, seriously.  
"Why are you ignoring me at school?" Stiles whispers, and fuck Jackson's werewolf senses because he heard that.  
"I thought..." he hesitates, unsure. "I thought you didn't want people to know."  
"I don't care," Stiles replies, fiercely. "I don't care what they think. I love you." Then he stiffens, as if he thinks he's said the wrong thing. Jackson puts him right immediately. "I love you, too," he says. "God, you have no idea how much I love you." Stiles smiles, widely, unreservedly. Jackson laughs, and Stiles wishes he could capture that laugh and listen to it over and over again for the rest of his life. "Look at us," he says. "We're completely hopeless." Stiles buries his face in Jackson's neck.  
"I don't care," he mumbles. "I love you."

And the next day, when Jackson kisses him in the hallway, in front of everyone, Stiles doesn't care for the shocked faces, because he's as happy as he has ever been, and they will make this thing that they have work.


	12. svegliarsi la mattina

**svegliarsi la mattina - franco tufano. the song title translates as 'to wake up in the morning'.**

Stiles can safely say that he's never woken up in a nicer way. Not that he has many experiences to draw from: his dad yelling at him that he's "going to be late for school!", his mum opening the curtains and letting the sunlight stream in (that hurt his eyes like a bitch). And now, Jackson. Jackson who litters his face with soft gentle kisses. Jackson who runs his hands over Stiles' skin, warm and smooth.

Stiles has, surprisingly, slept many nights in Jackson's bed. The thing they have crept up on them, stealthily, unseen and unpredicted by anyone. They spend most of their time together now. Everyone agrees that Jackson has calmed Stiles down, and Stiles has made Jackson less arrogant. It shouldn't work, they all say, but it does. And times like this, lying in bed, slowly waking up to the feel of Jackson's fingers running through his hair, make everything worth it.

And today, Stiles doesn't know what's so special, but he enjoys how Jackson wakes him up. Running his fingers gently through Stiles' hair. Dancing his fingertips across his face, his lips. Tracing patterns with his lips, across Stiles face, decorating his skin. And Stiles moans quietly as he wakes. Jackson laughs, faintly. "Good morning, sleepy head," he murmurs, his lips brushing against the shell of Stiles' ear. Stiles' eyes open, blearily, and he shuts them again, giving in to the effort of keeping them open. "Why are you so cheery?" he grumbles, but with an underlying sense of affection. Jackson laughs again. "Because I love you," he whispers in Stiles' ear, as if it were a secret. "I love you," he whispers again, trying the words on for size. Stiles relaxes into the bed, Jackson's bed. "Don't say it too much," he says. "You'll wear it out."

"No, I won't," Jackson replies. "I love you." Stiles smiles, tiredly.

"I love you, too."


	13. first time

**first time - lifehouse**

For a long time, the only times Jackson has noticed Stiles have been when he gets into trouble, or fucks up in lacrosse practice, or stares wistfully at Lydia (and Jackson will admit to kissing her right then, just so that Stiles can see). And even the times he did notice him, it was with little more than a cursory glance.

The first time Jackson directs more than a cursory glance at Stiles is also the moment when he falls in love with him. How disgustingly clichéd is that? How overused and stupid. But true. And unfortunately for Jackson, this is when he first realises that Stiles will direct no more than a momentary, condescending look at him, like he is the lowest scum on earth. Which, to be honest, he probably is. But that doesn't mean he can't dream.

And when he dreams, it's all about Stiles. Every last minute of it. Even when he has nightmares, Stiles still manages to turn up in them. Usually dying, making Jackson wake up in a cold sweat with Stiles' name on his lips. And it's not just nightmares that make him wake up like that.

The first time he sees Stiles in a different light, it is when they're fighting the Alpha. He sees Stiles' bravery, and is flooded with a desire to be like him. Loyal, brave, witty. Nothing like Jackson, who is fickle with his friendships, cowardly and completely not funny. That's the first night that Stiles appears in his dreams. And the next day, if Stiles thinks that he won't look him in the eye because of the night before, then so be it.

The first time he jerks off to imagining Stiles is a few months later. This thing he has for Stiles has grown, expanded beyond his control. He can't look Stiles in the eye; he doesn't think he'll ever be able to again. He is so completely and utterly screwed it's unbelievable. He even thinks that Lydia suspects something and, oh God, he hopes not.

Because he doesn't quite know what it is that infects him. Why Stiles, of all people, he might ask himself. But he knows the answer. And, although he doesn't like it, he doesn't have to, because he is screwed for fucking life. He's never going to get over this.

The first time he hears Stiles suggest killing him is like a knife to his heart. Stiles wants him dead. His heart sinks and his head fills with despair. He may as well be dead if Stiles hates him so much as to want him to die.

After the kanima problem is solved, he wants to talk to Stiles. But Stiles has gone, goddamnit. Scott shrugs when Jackson asks him where Stiles is likely to be. Some bloody use he is, Jackson thinks. He goes home, and tries not to picture Stiles' face when Lydia saved him through love. It's because he loves her, not me, he tells himself.

The first time Stiles comes to Jackson's window, Jackson can smell the drink on him. 'You're drunk,' he tells Stiles, who shrugs.  
'Not really,' he replies. His eyes are dark, pupils large and deep. And all Jackson wants to do is kiss him. But Stiles beats him to it. 'Lydia told me,' he explains, between desperate kisses. 'She said you were moping, and ordered me to cheer you up.' Jackson makes a mental note to thank Lydia. 'She actually said 'go there and make out with him. God knows you both want it badly enough',' Jackson huffs a laugh into Stiles' mouth. Stiles kisses him, again, on his mouth, his cheek, his chin, his neck.

The first time Jackson holds Stiles' hand is the day after, at school. Stiles goes bright red, but doesn't pull his hand away.


	14. lost without you

**lost without you - delta goodrem**

Stiles has long since resigned himself to the fact that he can't live without Jackson. As in, when he's not around, Stiles feels permanently on the edge of a minor panic attack. He feels permanently buzzing with nervous energy. He's forever moving, fidgeting, pissing everyone off, even Scott.

And when Jackson is around, it's like a whole different Stiles. As if he has overdosed on Adderall and is half asleep. He calms down, doesn't jump at the slightest noise, just sits, head resting on Jackson's shoulder. And Jackson will rest his head on top of Stiles', and even Scott - as dense as he can be - realises that they're mates. Together for the rest of their lives. He's happy for them, honestly he is. Maybe his happiness is tinged with the slightest bit of sadness or jealousy, that he and Allison aren't able to be like this, but he shoves it to one side. Stiles is happy. Stiles, who he knew had been hiding his unhappiness behind a mask, is happy with Jackson and Scott won't, can't, begrudge him that.

And Danny has noticed a change in Jackson too. Because, without Stiles, Jackson is always looking over his shoulder, paranoid (Danny has no idea why). And with Stiles, Jackson is calm. Friendly and more like the Jackson that Danny remembers from when they were younger. His face creases into a smile every time he sees Stiles, eyes wrinkling at the corners. He's more affectionate with Stiles than he ever was with Lydia. With her, it was about appearance and status. With Stiles, it's about love. And, of that, Danny has no doubt. They love each other.

Jackson can't imagine life without Stiles. Maybe it's the werewolf mating thing, but he can't, doesn't want to, imagine living without Stiles. He'd be aimless, a compass unable to point north. Because Stiles is his anchor, and he's only ever told Stiles that. He thinks of him when he changes, and it helps him keep control.

They balance each other out. That's the only way to put it. Jackson is confident, Stiles isn't. Stiles is brave, Jackson freely admits to being a coward. They balance each other, and some of their attributes mingle, until Stiles is a bit more confident and Jackson is a bit braver.

They know that they'll be together forever; as clichéd as it sounds it's true. Wolves mate for life. When Jackson first found out that he had mated with Stiles, he was shocked to say the least. Stiles first realised that they were mated when he was in the middle of a panic attack. He couldn't breathe and the moment Jackson appeared in front of him, he was able to breathe a little easier. And so now they come as a pair. Like Scott and Allison used to. No one mentions one without mentioning the other.

It scared Jackson at first, the depth of his feelings for Stiles. Derek explained it to him, how it was to be expected. How he was stuck with Stiles. And Stiles, instead of freaking out when Jackson told him, said 'oh' and Jackson just had to kiss him (there really was no other option). And Stiles just kissed back.

And now, in Jackson's room. Stiles turns around, from where he'd been peering at Jackson's trophies, and walks over to where Jackson is sat on the bed. He kneels on the edge of the mattress, knees either side of Jackson's thighs, and cups Jackson's face in his hands. "Hello," he whispers, and Jackson smiles, before pulling Stiles down for a kiss.


	15. helpless when she smiles

**helpless when she smiles - backstreet boys**

_(or how Stiles started as helpless when Lydia smiled to helpless when Jackson smiled)_

God knows if he could pinpoint when exactly it happened. It wasn't an overnight thing. It was a gradual accumulation of the many times Stiles saw Jackson actually smile. He doesn't even know when he started focusing more on Jackson than Lydia. It just hit him one day, out of the blue, that he had recently been staring at Jackson more than he had been staring at Lydia (he was staring at him when the realisation struck). Almost immediately, he felt like he wanted to puke, to spew his guts out everywhere (not because he had a crush on a boy; more because he had a crush on Jackson of all people).

He used to be helpless whenever Lydia smiled. His brain would turn to mush and he would lose any coherent thought that he may have had. And that wasn't even when she was smiling at him. He's had a crush on Lydia for as long as he can remember. He told his mum, on his first day at school, that he was going to marry her when they were older. His mum had smiled. Like she knew that it wasn't going to happen. Maybe she did.

He didn't even notice it when he began to fall out of love with her. Maybe it wasn't love. More of an infatuation. She was untouchable. But then again, so is Jackson. So why Stiles has fallen for him, he doesn't know. Maybe he has a thing for untouchable people who he knows will break his heart. Maybe daydreaming is all he's going to be good for in the relationship department. Especially with the people he chooses. It's ridiculous really. He should be able to love someone who could love him back, but he can't. He doesn't know what it is about people like Jackson and Lydia. They just attract attention. And, in Stiles' case, that attention is in the form of a crush.

It's not even a childish infatuation. It's a full on heartbreaking crush. One he knows will never be fulfilled. One that he still jerks off to at night, pillow shoved in his mouth to stop the groans when he thinks about Jackson's lips... and stop. He gets hard just thinking about Jackson, full stop. Heck, he could get hard thinking about Jackson's eyes. His eyes which Stiles could clichédly drown in, and he wouldn't mind. His eyes... which are currently glaring at him, pressed up against the lockers. And really, this isn't a good situation for Stiles to be in right now, and mortifyingly, Jackson can probably smell it and feel it.

Except he's not glaring anymore. He looks hesitant (at least, that's how Stiles would describe him if he wasn't entirely certain that Jackson didn't do 'hesitant'). He swallows and Jackson's eyes follow his Adam's apple down and up.

Jackson kisses him.

It's gentle, and completely unlike how Stiles thought Jackson would kiss (and, yes, he's thought about it a lot). And Stiles sighs into Jackson's mouth and kisses back. And honestly? It's an infinite number of times better than he imagined it would be. Jackson pulls back and smiles. Really, truly smiles.

And Stiles' brain turns to mush.


	16. sing

**sing - my chemical romance**

Really, Jackson is surprised that Stiles hasn't yet been caught doing this, what with the multiple werewolves with no sense of privacy. So maybe he should feel privileged that he is the first person (that he knows of) to hear this. But, mostly, he is just surprised. Since when could Stiles play the guitar? Since when could he sing this well? He's frozen on the window ledge, captivated by Stiles' singing. He doesn't think that Stiles knows he's here, so he turns and is about to leave, to give him some privacy, when Stiles stops playing. "Don't leave," he says. Jackson starts, because he though he was quiet enough not to be noticed. He turns back and sees Stiles, turned to face him, eyes red and puffy, sat on the bed, clutching a guitar. He steps off the windowsill and into the room. "Derek sent me to get you," he explains.

"Derek can wait," Stiles says. He sniffs and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. Jackson sits down next to him. "Are you okay?" he asks, tentatively. When Stiles looks at him as if to say 'are you seriously asking that', he says "Sorry, stupid question." Stiles smiles a bit. He sighs.

"It's my mum's birthday," he says. Jackson is momentarily at a complete loss. Stiles smiles again, this time wryly. "You'd have thought I'd be able to cope with it by now. Maybe even have got over it," he says. Jackson shakes his head.

"I wouldn't expect you ever to get over it," he says. "Maybe dealing with it will get easier over time, but I can see why you wouldn't be able to." He is rewarded with a smile and... God Stiles is beautiful and he doesn't know why he just thought that. "Why haven't you told anyone you play guitar?" he asks, curious, because, really, Stiles is seriously amazing at guitar. Stiles shrugs. "It was kind of just something between me and mum. It's not something I particularly want to share." Jackson feels incredibly guilty when Stiles says this. Stiles realises what he has said and looks away. "I didn't mean it like that," he says. "I meant that... I don't know. It's just that if the right person came, I would share it with them. It was special between me and mum and I don't want to share it with just anyone." They sit in silence for a bit. "Would you like to hear some?" Stiles asks, shyly. Jackson feels something well up inside him. He nods. Stiles picks up his guitar. He strums a few chords and starts to sing.

They sit there for about an hour, Jackson listening to Stiles' singing. Eventually, Stiles stops. "My fingers hurt," he says in explanation.

"It was amazing," Jackson says. "You were amazing." Stiles blushes and Jackson smiles.

"You look nicer when you smile," Stiles whispers. Jackson turns to face him. Stiles can't look him in the eye, face flushing bright red. Jackson leans in and kisses his cheek. The surprised look on Stiles' face is priceless and Jackson smiles widely when he sees it. So, he kisses Stiles again. Stiles smiled this time, shyly. So, obviously, Jackson had to kiss him again. This time on the lips, gentle, probing for safe waters. And clearly these waters are safe because Stiles kisses him back, equally gentle, and laces their fingers together.


	17. here

**here - take that**

It's on nights like this that Jackson realises that he was missing a key part of himself before. Lydia wasn't his mate (like everyone thought to begin with). Stiles was.

It had come as a shock to everyone. Considering that, Stiles took the news well. Considering. He didn't scream, or shout, just plopped down on Jackson's bed, when he told him, with a soft 'oh'. And, to be perfectly honest, Jackson fell in love with him just a teensy weensy bit more. And when Stiles announced, or rather whispered shyly whilst flushing bright red, that he had had a crush on Jackson, not Lydia, since he'd been eight... Well, Jackson couldn't have hoped for much better than that.

Initially, he'd questioned how such a perfect (Stiles continues to vehemently argue against this) boy had fallen in love with him, an arrogant, narcissistic twat (which, to be honest, was being nice). And he'd got an enigmatic smile from Stiles in response.

Gradually, he'd come to realise that Stiles was just as broken as he was, though he albeit hid it in a different way. And he still thought that he was perfect.

The others had taken it less well than Stiles. Significantly less well, on the whole. Allison had been shellshocked. Lydia had smiled and said that she knew something like this would happen. And those were the best of the reactions. Scott had scowled and stormed off. Stiles had followed him, but when he came back he was so pissed off that even Danny, who was completely oblivious to the werewolf issues, could sense his anger. Scott and Stiles hadn't spoken to each other for a week after that. In fact, it was a combination of Jackson and Allison discussing it with Scott that led to their reconciliation. Danny's reaction was unsurprising. He smiled and wished Stiles luck, in a jokey way, in dealing with Jackson.

And that's how they got here, to this point in time. Sometimes, Jackson would catch Stiles looking at him, like he thought that this wasn't going to last and, someday, Jackson would tire of him. Jackson always kissed the expression off Stiles face, and told him 'I will never leave you.' And Stiles always replied 'That's because you can't' as if Jackson needed reminding that they were mates, but his voice was always slightly mollified.

Today, Jackson can see that look creep into his eyes again. He does what he normally does to make it disappear, but it doesn't. 'I promise,' he says, whispering in Stiles' ear. 'I will never leave. You mean everything to me, and I don't think I could survive without you.' Stiles looks sceptical and vulnerable at the same time. Jackson kisses his forehead gently and pulls him into a hug. 'Honestly, I couldn't. And that's not the mating speaking. You are my anchor. I stay focused on you when I turn. You keep me alive.' Stiles no longer looks so sceptical, just heart-wrenchingly vulnerable and Jackson kisses him again, longer and harder, trying to convey the complicated mesh of feelings that fill his stomach whenever he sees Stiles. He thinks Stiles gets the message because he relaxes into Jackson and kisses back. 'I love you's get whispered against their lips and believed.

Later that night, Jackson lies in bed with Stiles, facing him and stroking his hip which lies beneath Jackson's hand. 'I would rather be here than anywhere else,' he says. Stiles smiles sleepily. 'Me too.'


	18. a beautiful lie

**So, I have decided that I will allow people to request songs (and story-lines) but I can't always guarantee immediate inspiration as to how to write it, so I can't post it immediately, but I will keep it in mind.**

**a beautiful lie - 30 seconds to mars**

Lying in bed, next to Stiles, half asleep, half awake, Jackson knows that this can only last for a short while. He knows that he's the kanima – he's seen the way that everyone looks at him now. They're scared, bloody terrified, of him. What if he changes in the middle of school? Matt may be dead, but they have no control over who Gerard decides to kill. And Jackson wishes sometimes that they would stop looking at him like that; he knows that as the kanima he has no self-control, but he's human enough to fight the desire to harm anyone other than his master orders.

But he doesn't know how he and Stiles ended up like this, in the same bed. Especially when they're supposed to hate each other. He could analyse what they have and come up with a million ways in which it could go wrong (and he's done this once or twice before) but now? Now he can't be bothered. He can take it for what it is. But what is it? (shut up, shut up, he thinks) But it's too late now. His mind's asked the question and he needs an answer.

"Stiles," he whispers. "Stiles, wake up."

"What is it?" Stiles voice is bleary and Jackson's heart lurches.

"What is this?" Jackson asks, gesturing between them.

"You woke me up to ask that?" Stiles sighs. "I don't know what _this _is. Whatever you want it to be, I guess."

"What if I said I loved you?"

"I'd say you're mad, but I guess that's a given with you."

"I'm not mad. I love you." Stiles looks uncertain.

"You're not lying, are you?" he asked, hesitantly.

"No, no, never." Jackson replied, vehemently. "I love you." Stiles smiles, softly.

"I love you, too. Now, can I go back to sleep." Jackson grins at this and nods.

At five in the morning, Jackson is still awake. Stiles is asleep, and when Jackson looks down at him, he gets this weird sensation in his stomach, lurching butterflies. "Stiles?" he whispers. "Stiles."

"Now what?"

"What if it all goes wrong?"

"What if what goes all wrong?"

"What if I stay controlled by Gerard forever? What if I'm stuck as the kanima forever?" He's panicking, he knows he is, but he can't stop.

"You won't, Jacks," Stiles says, fully awake now. "I won't let it happen like that. I promise that it won't be like this forever." Jackson is still panicked, so Stiles pulls him into a slightly awkward one-armed hug. "I won't let it happen," he repeats. And Jackson wants to believe him. He knows that Stiles has almost no say in what happens in life and what doesn't but he wants to believe him so badly that it hurts. So he does. He lets go of his panic and allows himself to believe Stiles' words (even though he knows it'll probably turn out badly – most things like this do for him). Stiles kisses him on the forehead. "Sleep now, okay," he says. "I'm fucking exhausted so sleep." Jackson breathes out a laugh. And now he finds, when he closes his eyes, he can fall asleep easily.


	19. if today was your last day

**So this is a short, slightly different version of the full length story I am writing, based on the same idea, called 'wonderful life'. Enjoy!**

**if today was your last day – nickelback**

Jackson has cancer. They've known this for the past six weeks. Some days, he's in extreme and agonising pain and all Stiles can do is sit with him, and he feels so fucking helpless. At first, they thought that the werewolf healing powers would solve everything, but it seems that healing cancer is not something that werewolf healing can do. _Which fucking sucks, but what can you do?_ Stiles thinks. So they have to rely on the doctors.

And, fuck, it scares Stiles; to think that maybe they won't be able to save him. To think that maybe Jackson will die. And whenever he starts to think like that, he has to force himself to stop, because they have the best resources and opportunities on offer (see, there are some benefits to being as rich as Jackson's parents are), and Jackson _will _survive. He's a stubborn bastard like that.

When Stiles suggests the bucket list, Jackson rolls his eyes. And moments later, Stiles finds him writing one. He doesn't say anything, but Jackson glares at him all the same.

He gives the list to Stiles the next day. Stiles takes it and scans down the list. It's only twenty items long, and the twelfth is _get married_. "Get married?" Stiles asks. Jackson shrugs, embarrassedly. The rest of the list is mainly sensible. _Go skydiving_ seems a little extreme to Stiles, but he's willing to do it if Jackson wants to. Jackson stands up from where he has been sat at the kitchen table. He stands behind Stiles and wraps his arms around Stiles' waist, resting his chin on Stiles shoulder. Stiles relaxes back into Jackson. "Have you told anyone else that you want to do these things?" Stiles asks.

"No," Jackson breathes in his ear. "Just you. I want to do them with you."

"Even number twelve?"

"Especially number twelve." Stiles' heart thumps against the inside of his chest faster. Jackson can obviously hear it, because he laughs, gently. "Why would you think otherwise?" Stiles shrugs. Jackson holds him tighter.

"Will you marry me?" he whispers in Stiles' ear.

"Technically, it would have to be a civil partnership, and we'd have to ask permission from our parents..." Jackson laughs.

"Just answer the question, Stiles."

"Yes." Jackson spins Stiles around in his arms. He looks surprised, as if he never expected Stiles to accept his proposal. Stiles smiles. "Yes, really, I am serious."

"It's not just because I have cancer is it?"

"Part of it's because of that. I mean, I'm accepting now because you're asking now because you might not otherwise get a chance to. But I would marry you any time you asked, Jacks." Jackson kisses him in response.

The wedding is not really a wedding so much as a party where Stiles and Jackson just so happen to get married. Neither of them minds though. They slow-dance around the dance floor, completely and utterly wrapped up in one another. "I won't ever regret this," Stiles whispers in Jackson's ear. Jackson smiles.

"Neither will I."


	20. save tonight

**sorry it's so short, i'm just really busy at the moment.**

**save tonight - eagle eye cherry**

Their kisses are hot and sloppy and needy, desperately pressed to every inch of skin, memorising the map of freckles and scars. They're not bothering to be quiet; the house is empty apart from them. This is the last night before all hell breaks loose, the last _safe _night they will have together before the Alphas come for them. After this, they're up shit creek without a paddle.

When they've mapped out each other's flaws and imperfections, they lie, facing one another, in silence. They don't talk; they don't need to – they've got to the point where they each know what is on the other's mind. Hell, they can practically mind read.

The night is overwhelmingly humid and their bodies are covered in sweat, but still they lie close together, sharing breathing space. The window is open, and the sounds of the night drift in.

They sleep fitfully, waking up every now and then, and then lie, staring at each other, as if trying to commit features and faces to memory forever.

In the morning, their touches hold hints of desperation, hints of fear and terror and _love_. "I love you I love you" they whisper. It's the last chance they have to say it because, after this, their world goes mad.


	21. helpless

**i'm sorry that i haven't updated this or wonderful life in ages, but i've been really busy. i promise that i will update wonderful life soon.**

**helpless - backstreet boys ft. pitbull**

Jackson's lying awake in bed one night when the epiphany comes to him. As far as epiphanies go, it's not hugely life changing. Or maybe it is to Jackson, but not really to anyone else.

He can't sleep; it's the full moon and there's an insatiable itch at the back of his throat. Stiles is asleep, dead to the world for all intents and purposes, lying peacefully next to him. And when Jackson looks at Stiles, Stiles who is curling into Jackson's side, seeking body warmth, he feels a pang in his chest, and his breath catches in his throat.

Because, and he doesn't know how to explain it, Stiles has become the most precious person in his life. He's waltzed in and usurped the position previously held by Lydia or Danny. And Jackson never even thought about stopping him.

When he looks at Stiles, he feels weak. Weak but also strong. Like Stiles is the only one holding him upright. It scares him, this dependence on Stiles. It scares him, this vulnerability because he _hates _being vulnerable. He's Jackson Whittemore, he's supposed to be the strong one, the one who will never break. But in reality, he knows they are each just as broken as the other, and the only way that they can be fixed is to be fix one another.

Sometimes, he looks at Stiles and his heart skips a beat and he hates how vulnerable, how _human_, he feels. And other times, he sees him, and his heart threatens to break out of his chest. Because, he thinks, how the fuck did someone like him - a douchebag, a jerk, an arsehole - manage to end up with someone so wonderfully brilliantly amazing as Stiles. He doesn't deserve him, hasn't _ever_ deserved him. And yet, here he is, lying in Jackson's bed, curled up against Jackson's side, fast asleep.

It used to be that Jackson hated how vulnerable being with Stiles made him, but instances like this are less common now. Instead, he revels in how fucking alive he feels with Stiles. And, for once, he doesn't mind being helpless.


	22. wide awake

**wide awake - joe mcelderry**

Stiles can hear Jackson moving about, getting ready to leave. Normally, he would be asleep at this point. He'd wake up and find Jackson gone, but he would never lie in bed and listen to him leave.

It hurts.

It's like a stabbing pain in his chest to think that Jackson does this every time they're together overnight. He's just a fuckbuddy to Jackson, another toy to be discarded whenever he sees fit. He squeezes his eyes tight shut and tries not to cry. Tries to squeeze the stray tears back into his tear ducts. Doesn't work.

There are burning wet trails snaking down his cheeks. Jackson's still here, he thinks, and holds his breath to stop any sobs forcing their way from his mouth. I am not weak, he thinks, and takes as deep a breath as he dares.

He tries to get back to sleep, because when he's asleep Jackson's still lying next to him, still breathing quietly and shallowly. And he can remember the first time they did this, all sloppy kisses and straying hands, messy highs and hard angles. Different.

He hears the rustle of Jackson's shirt as he puts it on and has to bite his bottom lip to stop the sobs that threaten to spill out and over into the silence. He hears Jackson stop and walk over to the bed, and holds onto his breath even more tightly.

He feels Jackson sit down on the edge of the bed and he can hear his sigh fill the silent room. He breathes shallowly. "I know you're asleep," he hears from Jackson. "I know you're asleep, but I just needed to say this." He pauses. "I can't do this anymore." Stiles clenches his fists and squeezes his arms around his body. "I don't want to _just _fuck. I want it to be _more_." Stiles moves to press his hands hard against his mouth, to muffle any sounds. Jackson sighs again. "I don't know why I'm bothering to say this," he laughs, sourly. "You're fucking _asleep_."

He gets up, and walks around to Stiles' side of the bed. Stiles hastily closes his eyes. And then has to fight to keep them closed when he feels Jackson drop a kiss on his forehead.

He manages this until he hears the door click shut. Then, his eyes fly open and his hand travels up to his forehead, and rubs gently the warm patch that Jackson's lips left.


	23. 5 seconds til the end

**5 seconds til the end - locnville. apocalypse/dystopia au.**

When the end of the world comes, it's silent. It doesn't end with a big bang, like you'd have thought. More like a whimper, Stiles thinks. They're sat on the roof of "their" apartment block: him, Jackson, Allison, and Isaac. They're the only ones left, the only four remaining pack members. The sun is going down on human life. They can tell that today is the last day; the sun is enormous, shining in the sky.

The end of the world began with an earthquake, the biggest in recorded history, measuring well over 10 on the Richter scale. It didn't just hit one country; it hit all of them almost simultaneously. Buildings collapsed, pandemics spread and panic roamed the streets. Of the few scientists left, one of them predicted that the earthquake had knocked the earth out of its orbit and it was only matter of time until it was fully and completely destroyed. Given that most of the 7 billion living on the planet were already dead, that announcement hadn't really occupied anyone too much.

Then the other predictions came in. Three months until the world is pulled in by the sun's gravity; that is, unless it collides with Mercury or Venus as it is dragged inwards. One month until the sun is too close to support life on earth.

And now, one month later, in sweltering heat, they're sat on the apartment block, watching the world come to an end. "Do you have any regrets?" Allison asks the world at large. They stay silent for a bit.

"I never thanked Derek for saving me," Isaac says eventually.

"I never told my parents that I loved them," Jackson says. "I didn't tell the person I love that I loved them either."

"I never apologised to my dad after my mum died," Allison whispers. Her voice is weak in the throbbing, heat-filled air.

"I never got my dad to stop eating take-away meals," Stiles says, choking back a half-laugh.

Isaac is the first one to close his eyes and fall asleep. It's not a healthy sleep; it's the kind of sleep that precedes death. Allison is next, slumping down to rest against him, watching Stiles and Jackson throught hooded eyes before they close for the last time.

"Who is it you never told you loved?" Stiles asks, hesitantly, a mere whisper penetrating the stale air around them. "I'm assuming it's one of us," he continues when Jackson doesn't reply straightaway. "I mean, you said 'person I love'." Jackson stays silent for a second longer.

"It was you," he says after a second of gauging whether it's a good idea or not. But fuck it, it's the end of the world. If he can't say it now, when _can_ he say it?

"Oh," Stiles says. His sigh permeates the air. "Well." He's not looking at Jackson. "Fuck it," he whispers, and turns to face Jackson.

Their lips press together carefully, dry and cracked from the sun and heat. Jackson doesn't want to close his eyes, doesn't want to ever stop seeing this moment. But he watches as Stiles does, and then his eyelids slip gently closed.

The world ends in silence, when it does, and with a tortured sigh of relief.


End file.
